The Boys Are Depending On Us
by ETNRL4L
Summary: At times, what we want most is not something for ourselves, but for that one person we most love to achieve their ultimate desire. Katniss Everdeen wants more than anything for the person she most cares for to achieve her most cherished goal and she's willing to go to all depths, withstand any hardships to make it happen... Even cheerleading.


_**At times, what we want most is not something for ourselves, but for that one person we most love to achieve their ultimate desire. Katniss Everdeen wants more than anything for the person she most cares for to achieve her most cherished goal and she's willing to go to all depths, withstand any hardships to make it happen...**_

_**Even cheerleading.**_

_**Written For Round 5 Day 7 of PROMPTS IN PANEM on TUMBLR. LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS: Jonquil - Desire**_

_**I am taking creative licenses in this that may be beyond what is acceptable to AACCA regulations. **_

_****__**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and all the characters in this fic are the property of Suzanne Collins**__. _

* * *

Panem General's board of directors were nothing but a gaggle of self-absorbed, self-deluded blowhards, completely in denial about what was truly valuable when it came to quality of care to patients.

She'd love to see one of the three insipid surgeons on that committee attempt a procedure without her mother there to babysit them through it. But, what was their answer to the need for budget cuts that fiscal year? Was it forgoing their own massive raises (because God forbid they suffer another year driving the same Benz)? No. They slashed the overtime for the entire nursing staff. Her mother wasn't even allowed to pick up extra shifts anymore.

Lord knew the woman had tried. It wasn't as if spending the extra time at home was especially appealing to her. If it weren't for the constant distraction that hospital had afforded for the past five years, Katniss was sure her mother would be institutionalized on suicide watch. One could only expect Prozac to take a person so far. It wasn't a miracle.

Maybe, they could find her some volunteer work at an old folk's home or something to fill the extra hours. Anything to keep her out of the house and out of her own head. But that'd need to wait for later. Right now, the teenager had more pressing matters to resolve.

With an annoyed outtake of breath, she scouted the surrounding unfamiliar hallway and doorways, zeroing in on the numbers on the entryways. She glanced down at the map of the school the counselor, Miss Trinket, had provided, which featured a bold red line from her office to the gymnasium. For about the thousandth time since the overly exuberant woman had proposed this idea to her, she found the corner of her upper lip hitching up into an inadvertent sneer, her brow pinching together into a wince.

'_Oh, how the mighty had_ _fallen_', she mused derisively. Never in a million years would her Pa have figured this is what she'd be doing eleven years after that first day he plucked her from that branch on that old oak behind their house, strapped her to the back seat of his jeep and drove her to Mrs. Seeder's.

_"We can't keep her out the trees," the steel-eyed man told the lovely dark-skinned gymnastics instructor as he fought a losing battle to rein in the four-year-old struggling to break out of his grasp and make a dash for the shiny trampoline just three yards away. "I'd be much obliged if you teach her to climb proper. You know, so she's less likely to break her neck doing it? Don't think I have me much of a little lady here anyway. May as well make her as tough as possible." _

Katniss choked back the sob that itched the back of her throat, swiftly running the sleeve of her jacket across her eyes to make sure none of the moisture she'd felt threatening could escape. There was no point to that. No point, at all.

She was supposed to be cheerful for this, right?

Bull…

"Hello?" she shouted, pushing the heavy steel door open. Her voice echoed across the massive high-ceilinged room due to its emptiness. She had to take several steps inside the mostly darkened space and round the bleacher before she saw the long collapsible table set up at the opposite end of the gym. Four girls and two guys sat behind it, all engrossed in their own conversations and completely ignoring her progress into the darkened gymnasium.

Only one of them she recognized immediately and, then, merely because her best friend had made a conscientious point of highlighting her the instant he'd dropped her off that morning before heading off to his morning class. He'd made some inappropriate and completely uncharacteristic frat boy comment about playing wingman on his behalf to get her number that had her rolling her eyes to the point of strain and wondering how bad an influence college was being on him.

From this close, she could appreciate the appeal, though. She was the student council president and, seemingly, the living proof actual human replicas of Malibu Barbie were alive and thriving in this universe. Her perfectly round, symmetrical breasts even looked real.

For some inexplicable reason, she immediately felt an unwarranted compunction to loathe Madge Undersee. Guilt instantly followed, of course. She had the moral fiber to realize how shallow and petty disliking someone she knew absolutely nothing about on the grounds of superlative physical attributes was. Still, she couldn't help wonder how many girls she automatically instilled this ill will in the moment they met her. Oh well, pitfalls of being disgustingly gorgeous. Boo-bloody-hoo.

Her sex were vicious creatures at this hormonal stage of development.

Case in point: the conversation she walked in on as she stepped into the patch of sunlight directly in front of the table (obviously all the overhead windows but this one set had been closed to create this spotlight effect), making her presence too conspicuous to ignore.

"…can't with you, Clove. Seriously? My body is a far more realistic representation of the archetypical student body than anyone else's on the squad. How dare you," the admittedly lumpy girl with the strawberry blonde curls tucked into a messy bun, snarled at a brunette sitting two seats away, chuckling.

"It was just a suggestion, Dell. Pre-qualifiers for Regionals are a month off. You could stand to lay off the carbs for a while. Take one for the team, you know?" another disinterested looking blonde supplied, staring at her nails.

"That's enough, Clove, Glimmer. This isn't producti-" Madge attempted before being cut off by the imposing, dark skinned boy all the way at the end of the table with his fingers interlaced.

"Shoot, ain't a thing wrong with a little junk in that trunk. Dell looks just fine to me."

"Watch it, Thresh," the red-head sitting between the two catty girls and who Katniss had to figure a demigod of some sort - because, really, who looked like  
that outside a Marvel comic book? - grinned impishly at the larger boy. "I happen to know Rue's not into sharing."

"Looks fine to chubby chasers like you and Thom, anyway… and maybe bread boy," the brunette shared a cackle with the aloof blonde.

The fuller toe head brought her hands down on the table hard, blatantly fuming as she came to her feet to glare at the other girl, "Screw you, Clove. There's nothing wrong with the way I look. I'm beautiful and healthy and confident. And if trying to bring me down is the only way you can bring yourself up, you're just hideous, inside and out. And insinuating he's doing this for any reason beyond the fact that he loves me like a sister… it's just sick, you f-"

"Excuse me!" She had to put an end to this. Gale was likely waiting outside and had no idea she was stuck in this vortex of inanity. Likely, he'd laugh his head off and taunt her endlessly the moment she told him. It's not like she could avoid it. He was her ride to practice if she got in. She really needed a car, but the prospect of that seemed bleaker and bleaker by the day.

"Katniss Everdeen. Miss Trinket sent me here to audition, said you'd lost someone to an accident and another just quit on you?"

As if choreographed (and likely because they were so in synch with each other) all heads turned to face her at once, but only Madge spoke, one perfectly contoured eyebrow arched upward curiously. "Jo and Blight were a team deal… Katniss, was it? She has a compound fracture of her right fibula, had a nasty fall off the top of a pyramid, landed in the worst possible way. She had to get surgery and has twelve pins in her leg. Her career's done, likely for good. No one ever really comes back from something like that. The irreparable psychological scar affects confidence, you understand? Blight's a senior. This would've been his last year either way and he decided his time was better served in support of his girlfriend right now as opposed to breaking in her replacement on the squad. We support and respect his decision, but we have a legitimate shot at a threepeat as National champions."

"Under normal circumstances, we do not accept new members this late into the season. We are entertaining these auditions to find a suitable replacement to patch us over for the remainder of the season and figured we'd build a little depth to the team as long as we had use of the gym time- for in case another injury happens. Your acceptance at this time is not compulsory acceptance into the squad beyond unless you proof your worth, otherwise. Do you understand these terms?"

"You're desperate. Read you loud and clear," the steel-eyed girl scoffed, immediately defensive that this girl who knew nothing about her instantly assumed she couldn't cut it on their team. The nerve.

The way all demeanors staring back at her twisted from varying degrees of sobriety to open disdain, gave her a good idea she shouldn't be expecting Facebook friend requests from any of these people any time in the foreseeable future.

"Well," the future blonde Real Housewife of Whatever candidate spit without bothering hiding her derision, "Then, you'll understand why under these circumstances we cannot afford to entertain anyone who cannot do a standing back tuck."

Out the corner of her eye, Katniss saw the strawberry blonde's hand shoot sideways to grab Madge's in alarm. She heard her whisper harshly to the other girl, "What? Peeta can't do th-" Madge's hand quickly came up to stifle her, but she could feel the girl's cornflower eyes remained trained on her expectantly.

Shrugging nonchalantly as if the exchange had escaped her notice (not that it made any difference to her in any case), Katniss shrugged out of her father's hunting jacket and swung it at the hardwood floor so that she remained in just a tank top and khaki carpenter pants. In a practiced move she'd made hundreds of times in her life, she bent at the knees, positioning her arms for a backflip before propelling herself backwards. A quick contact with the wood floor assisted in completing the first flip. The instant the balls of her feet touched the floor, she used the spring momentum to flip her body upwards and backwards once more, sticking the landing perfectly.

"Jesus Christ!"

Katniss wasn't sure which one of the guys that came from. She was too busy bestowing her most self-righteous smirk on the toxic pair of elitists busying themselves with picking their lip gloss laden jaws from the floor. She knew a perfectly executed flip when she'd achieved it and that was definitely it.

"Oh, my god, yes. Her. You. Yes. I want." The strawberry blonde was squealing, literally bouncing in her chair, clapping her hands beyond coherence with buoyancy. Katniss couldn't help scowl at her bubbliness. Was she going to piss herself? That much cheerfulness had to be detrimental to her health.

"Chill, Dell," the dark haired girl snarled in obvious irritation at the peppy blonde. "We're selling an image here," She turned a challenging leer back on Katniss, "Can she sell it? Can she yell?"

Was Katniss not standing right in front of them that they felt inclined to speak about her as if she wasn't in the room?

"Good point," Madge waged in with a contemplative tilt to her head. "Let's hear something simple. An oldie…"

Katniss looked on warily as the girl clapped a rhythm with her hands and chanted gleefully:

_"Awesome. Oh, wow! Like totally freak me out, I mean right on!"_

Then her clapping intensified and she pumped both fists in the air in a V shape with flare as she finished, _"The Rebels sure are number one!" _

Katniss fought the urge to roll her eyes. She'd just performed a complex flip that had required years of body conditioning and her indoctrination into this stupid team hinged on her ability to cite Dr. Seuss? She inhaled deeply and without taking a moment to think about it, blurted out in an irritated yelp, "I need the credit to get in college. Your crappy school has no gymnastics. I'm just as desperate as you are. I'm sure you're number one."

This had everyone at the table scowling at her. Great.

She'd never been good with words, or at making friends for that matter. But she really did need this to pad her college applications, now that archery was not an option either at this school. So, she swallowed her pride and ventured, meekly, "Look, so I've never cheered before. Anyone can learn to yell, right? Challenge me with something anyone can't learn in a day."

Everyone at the table seemed to form a quick huddle at her suggestion. Then the dark haired girl – who was centrally located at the table – opened her arms as if to part the conclave to level an unpleasant smile her way.

"Fine. Let's see a front handspring, step out, roundoff, back handspring, step out, roundoff, back handspring, full twisting layout."

Madge snorted aghast at the dark-haired girl, obviously oblivious as to what she would propose, before turning intrigued eyes back on her. The lumpy girl, Delly?, looked a cross between anxious and genuinely concerned, which was preposterous, considering she didn't even know her. The rest of the squad just looked at her with eagerness.

She let out a slightly miffed snort, turning to walk to the end of the gym furthest from the table, in a parallel line of sight. What the insidious girl had prompted would require some leg room. The moment she reached her destination, Katniss took a couple of quick steps before bouncing into the first handspring. She twisted in the air for the first roundoff once she'd stepped out and used her feet to boost her into the next three moves. A second handspring morphed into the next roundoff and she bounced into another back handspring, using the momentum to execute a full three hundred and sixty degree turn in the air. The landing was textbook and took less than seven seconds, going off without a hitch.

She turned to gasps and excited smiles form the guys, a strawberry blonde who seemed to be foaming at the mouth (someone really needed to get that girl some medical help), a deliriously gaping Madge Undersee, and a Clove and Glimmer who looked like they'd just sucked the bitterest lemons ever.

"Okay, we are auditioning a few other girls, but I can definitely tell you, you are the top contender, Katniss," Madge grinned excitedly, causing the steel-eyed girl to subconsciously return the gesture. What could she say? She needed this.

"Excuse you?" Glimmer objected outraged, causing Katniss to narrow her eyes venomously in her direction. "We have standards to uphold, Madge. Look at her. She's got a nasty attitude. She's got all the charisma of a corpse and, worse of all, she looks like a spokesperson for Goodwill. Nationals aren't cheap. We're not a charity."

Katniss didn't hear the rest of whatever that snob had to say, already well on her way out the door of the gym after hastily collecting her father's jacket and running as far away from those people as she could.

Screw them.

Who were they to judge her? Yeah, so maybe the stupid budget cuts at her mother's stupid hospital meant she couldn't afford her tuition to Capitol anymore and she was stuck in Twelve freaking High School the last two years before college. At least, if she toughed it out, they could still afford for Prim to go to private school until she graduated. The fund her Pa set up for them before… well before… had turned out to be enough for them to study, but not something so lofty as medicine and her Prim was going to be a doctor. It was the only thing that little girl had ever wanted to be since they'd lost him. If it meant going without a car and shopping at thrift stores for a few months, she could handle it. She was willing to bare this for her. Anything for her.

Screw the lot of them. She'd figure something else out.

Med school was her baby sister's ultimate desire. That made it hers too.

* * *

"Dude, I can't believe you're doing homework."

He tried to ignore how annoying his friend kicking his knee was and continued the equation he was calculating, not bothering to look up. "I have practice in half an hour, Finn. If I don't get it in now, I'll be up until midnight doing it and I'll get it all wrong. Why do I have to be here for this, anyway? I already agreed to it."

"The theatrics of it is the best part, man. Don't you watch reality TV? The best part is finding out which bachelorette gets the rose, who's the next Voice. It's so exciting."

The blonde wrenched his eyes away from the trigonometry book he held perched on his crisscrossed legs to send an unimpressed look up at his friend. "You watch a lot of crap television, man."

"Says the guy who DVR's everything on TLC to binge watch with his older brothers," the bronze-haired teenager challenged back with an amused gleam to his sea foam hued eyes.

"I only watch Cake Boss," the boy below mumbled, though the red tingeing his neck betrayed him.

"Look! They're pinning up the list," Finnick squealed excitedly, kicking the boy again to direct his attention a few yards down the hall to the gym door. They had a clear view of it from where they loitered on the stairwell.

Peeta stabbed him in the shin with his mechanical pencil. "Dude, that stopped being pestering and ventured into exasperating five minutes ago, kick me again and I'm flattening you out."

Finn laughed, rubbing his aching leg as he swerved the boy's head in the direction of the doors, that were now getting swarmed by eager students seemingly climbing over each other to see the list that had been taped to the metal door by Delly.

"See what I mean? It's like feeding time at the zoo- so primal."

Peeta shook his head at the spectacle, his eyes widening. "I thought there were only two spots. Why did you people audition so many people?"

Finnick shrugged. "Madge wanted to scout some extra talent for the qualifiers, spotters. We actually picked three in total. They're pretty talented. I think you'll like how we did for you."

The blonde turned to narrow his eyes at the boy above him again, his voice attaining a dangerous undertone. "This isn't a dating service, Odair. I'm doing this because you, Delly and Annie literally begged."

The boy above him pretended to be enthralled by the ongoings at the gym door as he smiled knowingly without acknowledging him directly. "She may not even be your type, Mellark. I was just pointing out that she's very, you know… agile."

Peeta's brows pinched into a grimace as he continued to glare at his so-called friend. "You are vile, man."

Finnick shrugged and continued to smirk unabashed as they kept looking at group after group of girls and boys come up to the doors with optimism and leave deflated. After about fifteen minutes, a student would show up occasionally, but it was clear the frenzy had ebbed. Finnick let out a disappointed breath that caused Peeta to arch a brow up at him in question.

"She didn't show." When Peeta furrowed his brow in confusion, he elaborated, "The girl we wanted to pair with you. She was perfect, but Glimmer was just awful to her and she… Wait. Look!"

They saw a very tall, very handsome boy pulling a short girl with a long dark braid toward the gym doors by both arms as she obviously protested. Eventually, she threw her hands up in a sign of defeat, shoved the far taller boy hard enough he hit the wall with a thump and stomped toward the gym doors. It took her a moment to scan the list – long enough for the boy who'd accompanied her to sidle up to read over her shoulder – before she exclaimed loud enough that Finnick and Peeta heard clearly where they loitered, "What in the name of god is a bloody flyer?"

The boy who'd led her to the gym door chortled and threw an arm around her shoulders, a gesture that inexplicably irked Peeta, as he led her right in front of them to the front of the school towards the exit.

"Congratulations, Catnip," he gasped out mockingly. "You're Twelve High's newest cheerleader."

They continued staring at the couple until they disappeared behind the doors leading to the parking lot, not missing when the diminutive girl jabbed the larger boy in the ribs, apparently fed up with the ribbing.

Finnick counted to ten after the doors closed behind them to look down at his friend, finding him already sneering back.

"Fine. You win. What's her name and when's our first practice."

* * *

So far, cheerleading was proving a truly intellectually stimulating experience. Katniss had learned to stretch her arms wide – no, wider – bounce enthusiastically – no, with more verve – and grin maniacally – no, not like a serial killer, do you want to scare everyone off? After spending three hours doing this stupidity? Yes. Both the concepts of mass terror and homicide were appealing, thank you, Delly.

Apparently the human pogo stick of omnipresent ebullience believed her to possess all the appeal of a funerary procession and had taken it upon herself to coach some 'life' into her. She'd never felt more compelled to use a person for target practice with her bow before in her life. She kept telling herself the girl was doing it with good intentions, kept chanting it in her head as some eviscerating urge tempering mantra. The bubbly blonde had seemed incapable of a malefic thought from the moment she'd laid eyes on her. She was intense and excitable to a fault, but never ill intentioned. So, Katniss bit her tongue and allowed the girl to endlessly prod, drill and cajole her into screeching, gyrating and smiling until muscles she never knew she possessed protested in agony.

Delly's harassment/coaching certainly kept the other lowerclassmen girls on the squad entertained. Katniss found them much more agreeable then the seniors. Clove and Glimmer were insufferable, but Rue and Annie – whom she'd learned were both flyers like her – stuck by her as Delly tried, apparently with poor results, to drill the basics into her. The rest of the squad were either indifferent or fairly civil.

Rue was even tinier than her, with a mischievous glint to her deep brown eyes and skin so rich chocolate and flawless, it looked like she'd been dipped in the confection. Katniss could see why the large boy, Thresh, couldn't keep his eyes off her as he worked out on the weightlifting equipment on the opposite end of the gym with the red-haired boy whose name she'd learned was Finnick.

Annie, she'd learned, was Finnick's girlfriend. She was a spritely thing, with a wistful smile, waist long wild raven waves she barely tamed with a butterfly clip and emerald eyes that stared at you as if seeing through you. She was a couple inches taller than Katniss, but had a slighter frame. She was a dancer – classical – and moved with a grace that made Katniss think of her as something ethereal. The fact she spaced out at random intervals only added to the aura of surrealism.

They'd taught her flyers were always the smallest, lightest girls on the squad because most teams didn't have guys to lift them and light girls could be lifted easier by other girls. They told her their squad was very fortunate to have a boy to serve as base for each of their flyers and assured her she would get along splendidly with the boy who'd volunteered as a last minute replacement for Blight. Because, really, didn't someone have to be amazing to go through the stigma of being a male cheerleader when they had no inclination to be one- just because their best friend needed them to be?

She'd noted with curiosity how Delly flushed when the girls had mentioned that, turning away with a subtle sniff to hide it. She bit back the annoyed snort that threatened. If this 'volunteer' was so amazing the sun apparently crested out his right butt cheek, why had she spent her first practice alone getting harassed into thoughts of massacre?

"I know, I know. Don't kill me, Madge. Where do you need me?"

A booming, breathless baritone shattered her pity party thought trail and she turned towards the owner. From her perspective, a blur of purple fabric, milky skin and unruly golden hair, barreled at the team captain at the far end of the gym. Clove and Glimmer obstructed anything beyond snippets of the newcomer from their flanking positions near Madge – not enough for a positive i.d. – for a few moments until they broke off, moving in the direction of her little group, all giggling at some private joke, apparently.

"Really? You couldn't change before coming here? You smell like a sock drawer, Peeta," she heard Madge snort over her shoulder at the trailing boy.

The three still laughing girls remained completely oblivious when the offhanded comment caused the boy to stop in his tracks, his entourage strutting on without him, and Katniss was finally able to get a good look at him. He was not particularly tall, very broad, with a heavily muscle-defined torso the spandex unitard he sported molded to like plastic wrap. His upper body tapered to a very narrow waist, his abdomen sloped with sinew that flexed and clenched as he worked his thick arms out of the sleeves and peeled the restrictive fabric over them. Then he bent over to push the textile down over thighs impossibly as thick as his waistline from profile, a ripple undulating over the large muscle that curved the counter of his buttock as the plum fabric brushed over…

Wait, wait. Hold up. Was this guy stripping in the middle of the godforsaken gym? Was she actually ogling a psychopath going Full Monty in front of everyone in the squad?

The mortified squeak had left her before she'd even realized it'd been building in the back of her throat and she could feel all eyes in the gymnasium swing toward her a split second before she could avert her eyes from the half-naked boy in the middle of the room. Frenetically, her mind in a fritz, she shifted her vision erratically, not calculating the trajectory and ended up locking eyes with the impossible blues of the very amused instigator of her dilemma for a split second before snapping her head violently toward a very sinisterly grinning Rue. She hoped to god the flush and beads of sweat building on her brow, neck and cheeks could pass off as exertion from her earlier workout.

"Were you checking out his a-"

"Shut up, Rue," She hissed at the girl through clenched teeth. "No I wasn't. He's getting naked. Whose attention isn't drawn to some freak getting nude in public?"

"Oh, honey, no he ain't. And ain't nobody gonna begrudge you scoping that. A white boy with a ba-donk-a-donk like that is as rare as a white rhino in the wild. It should be beheld."

Katniss brought her hand to her face to use her thumb and forefinger to apply pressure to her eyes. Maybe if she gouged them out, the gory distraction would make everyone forget she'd just been caught peeping.

"Ah, there's my girl." No such luck. Katniss tentatively uncovered her face to find the ash blonde teenage stripper accosting Delly with a bear hug and a very sloppy kiss to her cheek. The chirpy girl tried to swat at him through her giggles. "Eeew, Peeta. Gross. You're all sweaty. Get off me, get off."

Katniss grimaced, uncomfortable with PDA's in general. The only person she conceded touching or getting touched by much was her little sister and even she wouldn't do this to her in mixed company… at least she hoped. Even so, she couldn't help her eyes roaming down the boy's body as he grappled with Delly. Rue'd been right. He hadn't stripped to nothing- technically. He was wearing Underarmor shorts so snug, she could have sworn she saw the outlines of thick, engorged arteries bisecting the insane muscles of his calves, roaming up those enormous quadriceps, rounding that sculpted…

"Katniss, this is Peeta, your base. You'll be working with him on the lifts. You two will be inseparable for the next four weeks."

Cinereal eyes wide enough to rival dinner plates shot up instantly toward Delly, only to find the girl's head tilted in the direction of the boy as she twisted more fully to face him, an affectionate smile brightening her features. Katniss allowed herself a relieved outtake of breath, then nearly choked on it as she allowed her vision to veer from Delly to the blonde she presented. The boy had a set to his chiseled jaw and the corner to his lips edged up just so. But it was his eyes. Those electric blue eyes twinkled with unbridled merriment and the unmistakable gleam of someone who knew too much.

Oh, dear lord. He'd caught her staring at his butt… twice. Classy, Everdeen. Really classy.

"I hear you're really impressive. That's good, 'cause unless a handstand's useful in this, I'm outta gas," he broadened his smile at her, creating large dimples on either side of his face that she might have found endearing if he hadn't just…

"You seriously telling me I had to pull out a full lay out and Apollo here didn't even audition?" her irate scream shook the gym walls.

* * *

"Okay. Listen boys and girls," Finnick smiled at his own corny lead in as he moved behind Annie. Katniss couldn't help her eyes rolling. The couple stood before the squad, supposedly demonstrating the new lifts that were part of the choreography for their routine for Regionals qualifiers in a month while the rest of the squad lounged on the mats a few yards before them. So far, all Finnick had managed was to make her skin crawl with his inappropriate looks at them.

"Okay, so maybe we didn't get off to the best start back there," the toe head directly beside her nudged her shoulder with his and leaned over to whisper. His eyes took inordinately long to roam from where his hands tapped his steepled knee, up the length of her legs and torso to find her eyes as if he were suddenly introverted. Nothing this boy had demonstrated in the ten minutes she'd known him painted him as shy. "How about we start over and try to make friends?"

"I don't make friends with guys who pretend they're not surreptitiously scoping me out when they're asking me to be 'friends'," came her equally hushed response, making cynical air quotes with her fingers to punctuate the end of the statement. She continued feigning interest in whatever Annie was explaining about the importance of stretching to avoid muscle fatigue.

Peeta let out a soft snort, contorting his body so that she could see his face clearly out of her periphery, coming so close, she could feel his breath on her neck. Her skin pebbled at the sensation. She hated that she didn't hate it. "Fine. I have a perfect view down your shirt from here. Wanna be friends?"

When she turned scandalized eyes on him, realizing they practically touched noses - he was that close - she had to swallow thickly, at a loss for words as he continued eloquently with that same, lopsided smile ghosting her lips, "And I won't apologize for it. You weren't exactly looking me in the eyes when we were introduced a few moments ago, were you? I'm all about gender equality."

Outraged, she turned away, bringing her arms up to cover her chest. "Fine. I get your point," she hissed heatedly, embarrassed he'd brought up catching her before. You'd think common decency would prevent him from doing so, but , there it was. "I don't even know what you'd be looking at anyway. I've been doing gymnastics since I was four, not exactly conducive to a Kate Uptonesque physique. I'm just happy I have healthy eaten habits and my chest's not entirely concave."

After he didn't respond for a few torturous moments, curiosity won out and she finally turned to look at him. She found him analyzing her as if she were some rare species he'd never encountered before.

"What?"

"You really have no idea, do you? The effect you can have."

She had no compunction what that meant, but was about to ask when Finnick's voice tore her attention away.

"Let's get our newest couple up here for this. Katniss… Peeta, come on. I'll run down the basics. Then, we can go through the mechanics for you to learn at a slower pace. Here we go. Annie…"

As Peeta and Katniss stood before the squad, Annie came to stand before Finnick. He placed his hands on her waist and, with a count of three and a bounce from Annie, had her in the air gracefully as she executed a full split and landed with her legs still fully distended, on Finnicks flattened palms, held high above his head.

"Not in the deepest circles of Hell." Katniss was shrugging her father's jacket over her tank top, picking her duffle bag from the floor and making a beeline for the exit, when Madge and Delly caught up to her.

The team captain managed to wedge herself between the raven-haired girl and the door, her arms extended outward in plead. "This is what cheerleading's all about, the skill, the artistry. You could get a full scholarship out of this. You have the potential, Katniss."

Incensed, Katniss rounded, pointing a finger back at the amassed squad, shouting, "How is getting a public impromptu gynecological examination from a complete stranger going to get me anything but humiliated beyond competency, Madge?"

At this, Peeta could no longer contain himself, the laughter spilled out unwittingly. "Quite a few things would have to go awry for that scenario to play out, wouldn't they?" he gasped out, trying to catch a breath. "I mean, the hands don't need to go anywhere near there for any extended period of time to support the weight and even then… you don't look like the type to go commando under the skirt, Everdeen. There's all kinds of accessibility issues right there."

Before anyone realized what was happening, the tiny girl had shortened the ten yards to the laughing blonde and rammed both fists into his torso with such force, the momentum and the fact he'd been completely unprepared for it, sent them both careening backwards into the mat. The fuming girl rained abuse anywhere her clenched fists could find an opening on the still guffawing boy, whose bout limited his pathetic defense to little more than shielding his face with his forearms.

"You think that's funny, you degenerate? I've got news for you. I'm not letting you anywhere within a ten foot radius of me," she hollered, continuing to pelt him, even though she was sure she'd be the one sporting bruises later. The way he was tensing for the blows made it feel like hitting either a sack of potatoes or river rock, depending where the hit landed.

"It would lend a lot more credibility to your threat, were you not essentially riding my pelvis as you delivered it."

Her reaction to that infuriatingly apt, incontrovertible observation was a feral growl and renewed fervor in her barrage to his body.

"That's quite enough, children," Finnick chastised, bringing his arms around her waist to pluck her off Peeta as if she were a petulant toddler, her arms still flailing. "You need to learn to play nice before qualifiers. That's four weekends away."

"It's not happening if she's that squeamish about being touched, man." Peeta sat up and gestured somberly with a defeated wave in the direction of the heaving girl the readhead held back. All traces of humor left his tone as he met his friend's eyes. "If she can't trust me to hold her, if we screw anything up even during the learning process for those lifts… I break an arm and she breaks a clavicle or worse. This is a no-go, Finn. I'm not crippling someone for your shot at some stupid trophy."

Finally stilling, Katniss regarded the ashen-haired teenager on the floor with furrowed brows. The true weight of his words sank in. He was the team's volunteer, their 'savior', the guy who was willing to put up with all kinds of bull to help them achieve their goal. And here he was relenting that they'd never reach it because of her? Oh, no. He was not pinning that on her.

"Wait," she turned to face Finnick, her voice attaining a near panicked timbre, "If having him grope me in front of the entire school is the only way you people get to that stupid competition, I guess I can put up with it for a few weeks," she breathed out in a defeated voice.

The edge of Finnick's mouth came up into a smirk that made her markedly uncomfortable. "I like your resolve, honey. Especially since it'll be a whole lot longer than a few weeks if we qualify. But Peeta does have a point…" He brought a finger to his lips in thought, ignoring the horrified glint that flashed in the mercury of the eyes he beheld before the next statement rang out boisterously to the entire squad:

"Practice this Saturday at my folks' lake house, people. Dress light, dress for fun, but come to work."

His eyes roamed to where Katniss had moved off to help Peeta to his feet in grudging sign of truce, a devilish gleam sparkling in their foamy depths.

"We have newbies to initiate."

* * *

She felt overdressed.

When Gale had warned her she'd be the only one at Finnick's practice in a onepiece, she'd scoffed at him, making some offhanded, sarcastic remark about a monokiny not technically being a onepiece and not thinking string bikinis offered the kind of mobility the squad needed for maneuvers. After all, they were going there to practice… right?

Ten minutes into watching Clove and Glimmer do handsprings, tucks and flips in swimwear that would make the Rio crowd blush… she realized how hopelessly outclassed in that environment she really was.

"He, he, he, not to point out the blaringly obvious here or anything…"

She narrowed her eyes dangerously at the statuesque boy standing beside her on the expansive wood deck of the back patio, staring crossed-armed and amused at the frolicking teenagers beyond.

"A better person wouldn't rub it in, prick."

"I'm sure they wouldn't," came his lightning quick repost, edged with a condescending half grin. He tilted his profile slightly to level superior, nearly identical polished slate eyes on her. "Never said I was a better person, though."

"Katniss," a breathless Madge ran up the cedar steps to meet them, clad in barely there yoga shorts and a lime green crochet bandeau top Katniss knew she'd never have the anatomy to support if it ever occurred to her to ask to borrow. It didn't escape her how the blonde's eyes failed to connect with her as she spoke, furtively listing to her left in the general direction where her best friend stood. She was sure his attention was equally diverted.

"Peeta's around here… somewhere. Finnick was waiting for you to arrive to get started on lifts with the two of you. I'll go get him as soon as I get you and… I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced… settled."

Katniss quirked an impressed/miffed brow at the hand shoved clear past her at Gale. _'So much for subtlety, huh, Madge?'_she mused, trying to choke down the unwarranted resentment that suddenly churned her innards, the jealousy. Sure, Gale was like a brother to her, but it felt like some kind of insult for Madge to assume he was anything but. She might not be a supermodel like the voluptuous blonde, but she could carry on a decent conversation. She had other attributes. Why should she be automatically dismissed? Then again, that pesky, treasonous voice in the back of her mind reminded irritatingly, she and Gale had the same native ancestry and resembled each other strikingly. They had the same skin tone, eye color, hair color and texture… Why would someone not assume him kin?

Was she being dramatic? Was she hormonal? Oh, god! When had she had her last period? Last thing she needed was to have an accident today in the middle of the bloody lake- pun decidedly _not_ intended.

"Gale," she heard the boy beside her answer, latching on to the outstretched hand with eagerness rivaled only by a dog grinding a leg and she could practically hear the blush in his voice. The roll of her eyes was so pointed, it caused a sharp pain in her sockets. "Gale Hawthorne. I'm Catnip's ride."

She snapped furious eyes up at him at the casual use of his ridiculous pet name for her in mixed company but he completely ignored it, too lost in everything Madge Undersee for something as menial as her mortification to register.

"Oh, that's good. You didn't have to bother, though. We could've brought her. We'll take her home if you'd like. Want a drink, we have beer. Think Peeta's older brother hooked him up or something…"

In the blink of Katniss's eyes, she was left alone on the deck, her mouth flapping like a fish out of water in hopes of processing what had just transpired as she stared at her team captain leading her best friend away to the side of the house, him grinning like an idiot at lord-knows-what she was jabbering.

"You should fear for your boyfriend's safety. Cheerleaders are dangerous in their element."

She turned to find Peeta Mellark extending a bottle of water at her with an amicable smile. She accepted it, gracing him with a skeptical shrug as she turned away to use it to point at where Madge had absconded to the edge of the lake with her best friend. Apparently, she was showing him the water. What was so fascinating about water? They'd camped out near this or one of dozens of lakes like it in this area a trillion times.

"Pretty sure you're about the only person in this party who believes me capable of landing the likes of Gale Hawthorne."

"I believe you capable of converting the most devout Jihad extremist to a life of consummate pacifism in what you're wearing today, sweetheart," he stated flatly, coming to stand beside her near the veranda.

She found herself staring down at the knot to the black sarong she sported as the hand that did not hold her water bottle nervously fiddled with it for lack of a better idea how to busy her suddenly restless fingers, oddly feeling exposed. Lord knew eye contact with the boy beside her was out of the question, but her eyes made it somewhere near his navel, focusing on an impossibly blonde and very distracting wavy thicket of hair bisecting the perfect mounds of abdominal muscle there as she got out thickly, "I don't know what to do with that."

"With what?" he pried with a hint of amusement.

She shrugged, somewhat irritated at having to explain herself. Words weren't a particular forte. "Compliments. I don't… I don't take compliments right. Not used to them, don't know what to do with them."

He leaned forward his arms on the veranda so she could see him out the corner of her eye. "Not much to do with them, really. Just words. You stand there, listen… look adorably uncomfortable," the smile in his voice was unequivocal, simultaneously exhilarating and vexing her. "Though that particular hue of burnt ochre your skin is tingeing were the swimwear doesn't hide it? It's definitely purging all thoughts of suicide bombing from my mind… that and most other coherent thoughts, to be honest. That's a really lovely skin color and bathing suit, did I mention that?"

Unwittingly, Katniss found herself having to incline further away from him to hide the grin that forced itself upon her face. "Shouldn't you be saving all these honeyed words for Delly?"

"Excuse?"

She turned an unimpressed, upraised eyebrow at him, the grin on her face growing challenging. "You were draped all over her at our first practice two days ago, de Sade."

Peeta cringed, duly repulsed at the allegory before letting out a soft laugh and bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Delly Cartwright and I have been best friends since before we were out of diapers. We did share a kiss once – the first for both of us – at the age of ten, after discovering her folks making out behind us on the couch during movie night at her house. We were curious. Sue us."

"Now, this thing was so indescribably," he flailed a hand briefly, trying to find the right word as his expression grew somewhat pained, "…catastrophically bad, that I questioned my affinity for the fairer sex for a few weeks after the ordeal."

Katniss furiously choked back the snort threatening, though the mirth danced brilliantly in the steel of her eyes. Peeta found himself entranced by that gleam until she spoke again. "How about now? You still questioning your 'affinities'?" she all but snorted out, no longer able to hide the spreading smile.

Feigning introspection by bringing a pensive finger to tap his lower lip (which had her biting her own lower lip to keep from outright snickering), he gave her a slow appraising look, then languidly swerved his eyes toward where her best friend stood with Madge, engaged in conversation.

"This is a hard question you post, dressed in that neuron-inhibiting nothing of an outfit, Everdeen," he sent her another narrowed mock-suspicious glance and she felt her heartbeat race inexplicably. "Here you are making my next lung full of air questionable," she bit back another snort, "But then, I look at whoever that is that drives you everywhere and, how am I supposed to ignore that magnificent gigantic specimen of masculinity? This choice is simply impossible."

And there, the camel's back broke.

"He's my best friend," Katniss was able to gasp out between grunts of laughter. After she reined the hysterics in a bit, she added, dabbing at the bottoms of her eyes with the back of her hand, "I had a crush on him in eighth grade for about a month, though. But, I swear he was already so tall, every time I thought of stealing a kiss – just to know, you know? – the fact I'd have to literally climb him to achieve it was such an astronomic put off. I mean, look at me. It's not as if I was going to tackle _that_."

Peeta submerged a chortle, diverting his attention to where Thresh and Rue were stretching, gesturing with his head in the massive teenager's direction. "What about Thresh, though. There's the very definition of what a man's man should be. If you were a blind anatomy student, you could read that guy's naked form like Braille to learn musculature."

Still smiling, she shook her head slightly in response. "Not my type. I mean, he's nice to look at in theory, but every time I see a guy that hulking, I get the feeling he'll inadvertently rip me in half or something. I've read too many comic books."

Peeta placed a panicked hand on her shoulder that had her turning questioning eyes on him, only to roll them away when she realized his expression was ridiculously overly dramatic. "Oh, dear lord! Someone needs to warn that poor Rue. Seriously, Katniss. It can happen. One day we'll be looking at the news and one of those banners will scroll across the bottom of the screen saying a pretty African American young woman was found split down the middle, inexplicably smiling euphorically."

She was bent over the railing gasping for air again.

"What is wrong with you, man? That's just plain wrong."

"What do you think of Odair? Surely even _you_ can see the majesty that is that deity walking amongst men."

She wrinkled her nose and shrugged toward the pier at the lake's edge, where Finnick softened a kiss to Annie's crown, getting up off his haunches to move toward the house. She realized he was heading in their direction. "I'm sure everyone finds Finnick beautiful… and he is. Too beautiful. He's like a work of art or a fine piece of extravagant jewelry. You want to lock him away and appraise him, but you dare not risk losing him. Too priceless. I don't know how Annie manages to keep his interest. He's blatantly fickle. I saw him flirt with every girl on the squad before Annie arrived to practice Thursday. He even tried hitting on me, ineffectively. And look at that Speedo he's wearing. Who wears that? Did we walk through a wormhole to Europe at some point? Everything about him screams 'Please pay the attention to me my rich parents swear the things they buy me replaces. Oh, and please avoid the vacant look in my perfect eyes and focus on my crotch, because I'm totally not compensating for anything _there_'."

When she looked back at him with a triumphant smirk, she was deflated to find the one he'd previously worn had faded to something cynical that touched nowhere near the azure of his eyes. "You're very perceptive, Everdeen," his tone had grown mocking, detached. Absurdly, she found she missed his previous jovial tenor more than she'd missed anything about just about anyone in recent memory. Odd.

"You got everything Finn radiates dead to rights…" He neared, coming close enough to finish in her ear, "And yet managed to miss everything of who he actually is. Maybe, that perch on the high horse is not the best optic." He then brushed past her on the way down the steps to meet the redhead. He paused briefly to toss back at her with that same caustic smile, "Ask yourself why someone most likely to go the way of Narcissus if he weren't the captain of the swim team when the squad's off, would offer up a place like this," he gestured expansively with his arms, "to a bunch of rowdy kids who need a place to practice. How self-serving is that? For that matter, why would his best friend put up with getting called a faggot or worse by half the ignorant morons on his own team to help him if he couldn't see beyond?"

Katniss stared at the blonde waves catch the slight breeze as he descended the steps to where his friend stood, her eyes of their own accord tracing down the massive expanse of roped sinew that was his uncovered back. She bit down hard on her lower lip, her stomach churning with guilt even when her brow pinched into an indignant scowl.

Who was he to judge her? She _was not_ judgmental. She knew nothing about Peeta-sanctimonious-blowhard-Mellark or any of his friends. Why should she? She'd been on this godforsaken squad for all of forty eight hours. So far, she'd managed to have her best friend hijacked by the pin-up calendar captain, and now she had to stand there listening to this jerk make assumptions about her character based off a wholly valid observation she'd made about a total stranger who played himself off as a cocky bastard but was secretly some kind of philanthropist?

No. She refused to allow herself to feel an iota of guilt. He could go shove it. If these people wanted to play games and hide their personas, so be it. She wasn't about to play into this crap. All she needed was to get the routines down. Put on a decent show. Get something redeemable on those college applications. Peeta Mellark was a means to an end… a very distracting means to an end.

* * *

If she'd known she was going to end up with this much water shoved down her gullet, she'd never bothered with that stupid water bottle earlier.

Sputtering and flailing, Katniss broke the surface of the murky water, her head swerving around a moment before enraged eyes zeroed in on her target. She smacked him as hard as she could right where his bulging shoulder blade showed signs of reddening from prolonged sun exposure and neglectfully long intervals between sunblock applications.

"That time you let me go on purpose, ass."

Peeta hissed at the sting on the tender spot, swerving around to meet her angry gaze with heated cerulean of his own. "Oh, yes, Katniss. That's exactly what I wanted. One of your heels rammed into my armpit while the other misses my right nut by inches has always been a lifelong aspiration. Thank you for allowing me to slash it off the old bucket list."

She brought her hands up exasperated, rubbing up her face and through her hair in a futile attempt to wring the stinging, incessant moisture out of her eyes. A huff that ended up looking much like she was spitting a mouthful of water at the boy twelve inches before her (she was far beyond caring), accompanied the gesture.

Learning the lifts in the water had been Finnick's brilliant plan, and she had grudgingly seen the merit of it… at first. The lake provided a soft surface for falls – and lord knew, there'd been many, many falls that day – but, between the water, their lack of skill and the ever-building sleekness of their own perspiration after the strenuous maneuvers; her opinion had greatly deviated. Sustaining any kind of grip on each other had become a nightmare after the first thirty minutes.

The District Twelve Rebels, she'd learned early on, were not champions by happenstance. The first thing Finn had taught them was that the lift he and Annie had demonstrated two days prior was not only graceful and flawlessly executed, but completely banned in competition. It was the squad's sick version of hazing. As it turned out, Peeta's hands only really ever had to come in contact with her hips, waist, lower back and legs for support during lifts.

The revelation was small comfort once the readhead began demonstrating what _was_ actually expected of them, however.

He and Annie had demonstrated the full repertoire of couple's stunts for them on dry land, since so many involved Annie performing a front handspring, back handspring, roundoff, cartwheel or back flip into Finnick's awaiting arms, where he dexterously flipped, lifted or cradled her into a cuppie (both her feet balancing on one of his distended hands).

The bastards made it look so freaking easy.

The reality? Finnick had spent the first hour with them in what was waist deep water for Peeta, thigh deep for the redhead and chest high for her, just teaching them how to safely brace, support and lift into different maneuvers. And even that had been a challenge.

It wasn't an issue of strength. The first thing Finnick had them do before getting in the water was have her lay perfectly flat, hands at her side, frame locked, while Peeta lifted her. He'd reached one hand under her back, right between her shoulder blades, and the other just at the junction where her thighs met her rear and, bending his knees, lifted her like she was nothing. He'd joked with Finn about her being lighter than most of the weights he had to use for wrestling training as he did a few reps with her until she felt air sick and not too kindly asked him to shove it and set her down.

The problem presented once they started the maneuvers in the water and reality hit that balancing an _uneven_ hundred five pounds transitioning from a rotation to a full stop into a single hand… _that_ took a humongous amount of muscle memory and coordination. In places wrestlers had absolutely no reason to cultivate for their sport.

"You just have a useless center of gravity. Absolutely no notion of balance, whatsoever," she batted the water angrily, splashing the liquid indiscriminately as she turned to wade further away from the shore.

"Excuse you?" he growled back with matching spite, though he didn't make a move to follow her, his indignant eyes flitting down at the ripples apprehensively before focusing back on her retreating back. "I have a prime center of gravity. It's my bloody ace in the hole. I'm five seven and can take down guys twice my size because I can sweep them out. That's my advantage. But what good is having the skill to throw someone down to me here? I'm trying to keep you in the air. I'm working against every instinct I've been training to hone since I was nine here, sweetheart."

Fighting that twinge of guilt in the back of her conscious and that little voice that kept screaming at her that she was being an irrational harpy. She had such traitorous inner dialogue. She turned back to face him, not quite letting the scowl slip away, but letting her features soften considerably. "Whatever. We've been at it for three hours straight in, like, four feet of water. Let's move back a little and try it again. Maybe my nerves are shot 'cause I'm freaked I'll break my neck from falling from there," she gestured to the water at his waist, turning back to continue her path into the lake.

"Don't worry about that, Katniss," he shouted back at her, not quite managing to hide the anxiety bleeding into his baritone. He quickly cleared his voice to continue with a forced chuckle, "I won't let any big bad fishies bite you here. Pinky swear."

He must have thought her simple. She turned narrowed eyes on him, scrutinizing. Slowly, with a stealth that made a look of unease flit through the cerulean of his eyes - one she recognized from cornered prey - she inched closer to him. "Why, Peeta Mellark, why don't you want to venture further out here? Don't tell me the Golden Boy of District Twelve High could possibly not know how to swim?" she mocked singsong as she edged closer.

Bringing his arms up to cross over his chest defensively, he huffed out, eyeing her warily, "I grew up in the city, Everdeen. And my mother… let's just say she wasn't exactly the outdoorsy type. She's not much of any type beyond the type to demand order and 'discipline'." Katniss noticed how his left eye twitched as he said this, the gesture causing an unsettling twist to her stomach. "Sports were a healthy outlet. We're not exactly giants, so height-exacting athletics weren't going to be an option. And there aren't any pools in our area outside the Y. You'd have to know my mom to understand how that was not a viable option. So, no. I can't swim. Now get back here, so we can figure this thing out."

Squelching the unwarranted commiseration the teenager's words inexplicably seeded in her chest, Katniss circled around him smoothly, keeping her head just visible above the water. "I can teach you how…" The inflection to the offer was anything but charitable and put Peeta instantly on edge.

"No, thank you, I'm just fi-"

She'd moved too swiftly to track and his feet were out from under him violently, his mouth flooded with hazy water, his eyes blinded. For a moment that felt like eternity in the resulting panic, he flailed his arms and legs, trying to find purchase on the slimy, algae ridden lake floor. The second his feet touched something solid, he shot through the surface choking and gagging as he frantically tried to refill his lungs with air. He snapped enraged eyes toward the sound of hysterical laughter a few feet to his left, still heaving. Did this psychopath have a death wish?

"Oh, god, dude. You should see the look on your face. It's precious. It's four feet of water. You'd have to be a toddler to drown in that." She was back paddling leisurely, a mocking grin splitting her features. "Bet you don't have the cojones to come here and do something about it," she taunted.

"You know what, Everdeen? No. I'm done. That's not funny. Let me know when you grow up and want to work on what we're actually out here to do. I'm gonna go chill with Finn for a minute." He turned his back on her, bringing a hand up to run through his hair in indignation. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his escalating temper, before taking the first step toward the shore.

Katniss let out an insulted breath, frowning before one eyebrow shot up, morphing her demeanor into something far more impish. She deftly pushed off the lake floor, slicing the water's surface, making a beeline for the retreating blonde's waistline. If he were going to be self-righteous, she'd like to see him pull it off sans those board shorts.

The second she sidled up behind him, quickly reaching out for the waistband of the navy swimwear, it was all out blitzkrieg. He was on her before the squeak of surprise escaped her. In a move her eyes could not follow (borne of years of wrestling conditioning, her reeling thoughts could only conjecture), he'd twisted her up out of the water and crossed both her arms to her lower back, pinning them there by a single flexed arm he wrapped around her torso like a vice. His other hand came to tangle somewhere low in her water-loosened braid. She felt him tug on it, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely with enough force that his face filled her entire frame of vision. He was so close, she could breathe the air rushing out his flaring nostrils as he ground out fiercely, through clenched teeth, "What part of 'that's not funny' was unclear to you, Everdeen?"

Katniss couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. All that registered in that moment was the liquid blue blaze roiling through his nearly nonexistent irises – lost to those enormous onyx pupils – the sensation blazing her skin where his made contact, regardless how gruff, the steady thump of his heartbeat against her breast. Had he noticed he'd crushed her so entirely to his body that their pulses were skyrocketing in sync?

Her eyes flitting down to the somewhat cracked tender flesh of his lower lip, she found her tongue inching out to wet hers. Her mind suddenly filled with all kinds of fabrications about what it would be like to shorten the nothing that separated them and learn what that skin felt like, how it tasted.

Unbeknownst to her, Peeta was entertaining some very similar thoughts the instant their compromising position blazoned through his awareness. Only he had to bite back a groan and the instinct to dive in viciously the second that tiny tease of pink slithered across those partially gaping lips.

Somewhere far off, somewhere outside that moment where nothing but them existed, nothing but shared oxygen, only the buzz of each other's hyperaware skin… the sound of a bell broke through. The sound was so jarring, so foreign to the atmosphere; it sobered them both immediately, making them blink as if waking from a trance.

Who in heaven's name rang a cowbell?

"Gather round boys and girls," Finnick's voice rung out boisterously from somewhere on the deck beyond Peeta and Katniss's range of vision. "Q's ready. No, there's no veggies, Clove. No vegetable shall defile this grill. You can go inside and make a salad. Don't roll your eyes at me, you anorexic…"

Katniss bit her bottom lip to choke back a snort. Peeta didn't put forth the effort and chuckled softly, the sound reverberating between them. This brought to the forefront of their consciousness the fact they were pretty much wrapped in each other – Katniss to the extent her feet no longer touched the lake surface – making matching flushes race up their necks.

Mortification preventing her from devising anything more inspired, Katniss braced both arms to Peeta's muscled torso and wrenched away so abruptly, she landed on her knees in the water before him. Getting quickly to her feet and avoiding eye contact (Lord, avoid the eyes… anything but those eyes… eyes bad), she sputtered nervously, starting to move off on uncharacteristically wobbly feet, "Um, yeah. I want food. Food sounds good right now. Good idea. I'm hungry. I'm just gonna go now and get some food. You hungry?"

Peeta watched her walk off, bringing both hands up to rub his face roughly, trying to will his heart from catapulting out his chest. What was he doing? She was infuriating. She was obstinate. She was defensive. She was contrary. She was entirely emotionally closed off… She was magnificent.

Once he was sure she was far enough out of earshot, he let out a shuddering scoff.

"Starving."

* * *

The last thing Katniss expected when she'd confided to Delly Cartwright she really had no idea how she was going to afford the trip to central Florida for the Nationals, was to find herself stretched over the hood of a soapy Hummer, scrubbing, dressed in jean cut-offs and a tied up District Twelve Rebels t-shirt.

Far be it for her to complain, though. The peculiar perch offered top notch scenery.

She pretended the overly saturated sponge in her grasp needed a drench as excuse to swing an arm over the side of the vehicle, clandestinely sneaking a peek at the lunch truck parked five yards away (or, more accurately, the teens staffing it), swarming with patrons. You could virtually feel the aura of desperation oozing from the eager consumers.

She allowed an insidious grin to split her features.

Filthy Shake-n-Bake, Delly had informed her was the eccentric tradition's apt moniker. And it'd been instated in their school long before their time, by some forward thinking long-haired Gen-Xer in the nineties, whose father owned a bakery franchise in the city. The story went; this kid had the ridiculous notion that, whoa, it was grossly misogynistic to have the cheerleaders washing cars in tiny outfits to raise money, while the football team just sat back and ogled. His solution? He asked to borrow his father's catering van, dressed in nothing but boxers and an apron he'd crudely drawn the school logo on and came out to the next carwash the squad held to sell cookies and cupcakes. Needless to say, having the school's star running back selling baked goods in next to nothing, greatly boosted revenue, making this par for the squad from that day forth.

Soon, other innovative players joined, but, lacking the founder's skill for baking, chose to make and sell milkshakes, since the van was equipped with refrigeration to hold dairy products.

Of course, time took its toll. And, eventually, the pioneer of this transcendent idea graduated, grew up, moved on. However, as Katniss's eyes roamed from a laughing Thresh, to an unabashedly flirting Finnick, lazing up the form of Peeta - smiling congenially as he handed a little girl a cupcake - all clad in nothing but deep plum boxers and aprons sporting the Rebels logo on that Mellark's Bakery food truck… Her heart swelled with gratitude for that enterprising boy over twenty years before for making sure his father's van was always available to kids who needed it for this over the years after he'd left the school. For imparting both his love for his craft and his respect for women in his own sons, so they'd keep this wonderful tradition alive in his stead.

"You know if you cock your head just a little bit to the right, you get a better angle on his groin."

Katniss flinched onto her back on the hood, snapping her eyes to lock with the mirthful ones of a boy very similar to the one she'd just been admiring - she'd hoped - covertly.

Okay, so the enterprising boy missed one. She wouldn't hold it against his legacy.

"You suck at subtlety, man. You were about to nose-dive spectacularly off that thing, how far you were craning to gawk at him. You don't have to work that hard, you know. Pretty sure he'll give you a private show if you just ask nicely. He's not exactly staring any less. But, unlike you, he's mastered the art of guile. You have the tact of a bull in a china shop."

She narrowed her eyes venomously at the boy, grimacing as he launched himself on the soapy hood beside her – directly beside her, personal-space-invasion beside her – and beamed an impossibly obscene, dimpled grin. She strived to keep her eyes locked on his, adamant they dare not stray downward to where he boorishly splayed his muscled thighs so far apart, the apron rode up clear to his navel , leaving no doubt his boxer clad package was on full camel-toed display for every passerby. The thought alone made her queasy.

"First of all, you're too disgusting to function, Rye," she punctuated this with a huff and useless push of her leg against his in the hopes of forcing some basic decency. "Second, why are you here? This thing's not for your team. And get away from me, you heathen. How foreign is the concept of boundaries to you?" she gritted out, now unsuccessfully shoving at the boy's leg until finally giving up and settling for moving over a few inches with an indignant grunt. The guy was built like an armored truck.

She'd gotten to know Peeta's brothers rather intimately over the last week and a half of training nearly every day after school with the golden-haired teen. They were as close as three same-sex siblings so close in age could get and, either one of them hung out with them for practice when they stayed after class, or made snacks for them when they'd practice at his place. If she were honest with herself, she really liked them, having no male siblings of her own and all. Their personalities seemed to run opposite gambits of each other. The oldest was an adult – like, an actual adult – even though chronologically he was only nineteen. He'd been school valedictorian two years before –the year before Gale's graduation – the wrestling team captain, now a promising pre-law student. He was also one on the most hospitable, congenial, charming people Katniss had ever met.

The middle brother… that was something of a quagmire, considering she presently wanted to shove the sponge she held down his throat. But when he wasn't being a complete idiot…

"Are you kidding? You think Dad would let the baby out with the truck? And for the record, I'm master of boundaries, check it…" he pushed his tongue up against his teeth to shrill the most grating whistle across her to where another group of her teammates leaned over the tires of an Audi, polishing them. The moment one of them (apparently the one whose attention he'd been garnishing) quirked an eye at them, he waved her over.

Unsure what the boy's endgame was, Katniss continued with a roll of her eyes, "You didn't drive the truck here, retard. Flax did. Your dad wouldn't trust you behind the wheel of that thing if it killed hi-"

The words died on her lips with a surprised "Oh" when, the instant Leevy, the girl Rye had called over, arrived… he pulled her into an embrace that shocked the unsuspecting cheerleader as much as it appalled Katniss. Though that was nothing, she figured from the way the poor girl tensed at the gesture, as his mouth crushing heatedly over hers a millisecond after.

Katniss could only stare in fascinated outrage as in the span of a breath, the girl relaxed into the assault, visibly melting into the burly boy's arms, not only relenting but reciprocating with a fervor that had Katniss diverting her eyes with a flush. Anyone who'd catch her staring at _that_ would label her a voyeur- that's how enthusiastic the exchange had become.

When she finally heard them break apart with a wet 'pop' that made her nauseated, she turned back to level a glare at the boy in disgust. He pretended she wasn't there. "Thank you so much for your help there, beautiful. I'll catch up with you later," he cooed, smoothing a hand over the flushing girl's cheek.

She gave him a quick peck on the lips before waving goodbye, suddenly bashful (oh yes, that card wasn't totally bogus now), and making her way back to the giggling group of girls at the Audi. Katniss followed her retreat with a quirked brow.

"See, _that's_ invasion of personal boundaries, Katniss. I know the difference distinctly. She's nice, by the way. Is she new to the squad?"

Katniss jerked her head back toward the boy beside her so quickly, she was sure she'd have whiplash later. "You don't_know_her?' she screeched scandalized. "How can you do that to someone you've never even met, you warped psycho!"

"She wasn't complaining," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Not then, not when she was checking me out all morning… you really are oblivious, aren't you? You know, you'd be really hot if you'd stop scowling all the time. See?" He jabbed a finger between her eyes, stretching the skin she was sure puckered there at his phenomenal gall. She was too stunned to even register the touch, much less do anything about it or the mocking, superior little smirk he brandished. Her mind was even too flustered to process his slight.

This was the Mellark middle child. He was uncouth. He was unfiltered. His mental stability was suspect on the best of days. In her short tenure at this new school, Katniss had heard fantastic rumors about his irascible sadism, of his knightly chivalry. All of these so blighted with hyperbole she doubted any to be true. What she did know was this: the kid was eccentric to a fault, he had a volatile temper and there was one thing he put above pretty much anything else…

"As for why I'm glorifying all you peasants with the majesty that is my amazing physique this fine day," he languished a hand over his own body, leaning back against the hood of the car, grandiosely. He sobered abruptly to finish with a dangerous glint to his cornflower eyes, "Some geniuses on the wrestling squad have been… talking, making comments about Peeta cheerleading. Because of their superior intellect, word got out they'd show up here today demonstrate their 'support to the squad'."

He smirked at her, something so threatening, so intimidating that she recoiled. "As team captain, it is my responsibility to make sure none on my squad tarnishes our respectable reputation. As a big brother," he cracked his neck and she flinched, "well, let's just say anyone who comes here to start trouble will be consuming all their meals through straws for the foreseeable future."

And there it was. At some point in his life, Rye Mellark had taken up the mantle as his family's enforcer. Katniss was not sure about the details, having only been around the siblings for a little over a week, but it was clear they all shared some kind of trauma concerning their mother. The woman did not live with the family, she was not comfortable asking why. But it was not hard to see whatever it was she'd done to her children, it'd taken the heftiest toll on her middle child, broken something irreparably. He was brilliant, intuitive and innately empathetic. It was tangible through the thick wall of hostile indifference he permeated most of the time. She'd only been able to get brief glimpses of his true nature when he was around Peeta.

He'd do just about anything for his little brother. She could relate to that. She could find kinship there.

"So, when are you going to stop torturing yourself and give him a chance? You argue like you're already together. You might as well give the poor kid some of the fringe benefits for putting up with you."

She let a cynical scoff escape her, leaning back on the car to level indifferent eyes on him. "So you're playing wingman for him now, Rye? Peeta and I are not that to each other. We're… allies. We have an understanding. He helps me stay on the team to pad my college apps. I help the team make it to Nationals. His friends are happy. We don't have to like each other. We just need to work well together. Period."

Nothing she'd stated was untrue. After the awkwardness at Finnick's lake house that first practice, they'd had a frank talk. She'd stated in no uncertain terms that she had no need of the hassle or distraction a relationship would bring. She had other priorities to focus on. Yes, there was an obvious attraction between them, but now that they were both aware of it, what would prevent them from ignoring it and moving beyond? It should be simple.

The execution of this had proven much more difficult than the theory.

"Okay. But, just for your information, he's not a saint. All of us Mellarks have a je ne sais quoi, an appeal, certain… persuasive gifts – call it whatever you want – that make getting what we want exceedingly simple. And he's definitely used the skill set to his advantage in the past." Katniss could feel herself tense at those words, the undesired jealousy churning the pit of her stomach.

"But, he's chosen to go about it different with you. You affect him differently. You asked him to back off and he's stepped back. It's painfully obviously to probably everyone but you how bad that's aching him, but he's backed off. If you care anything at all about him, you need to do something about this or man up and tell him outright there is no chance for the two of you. Because, darling, in spite of his best effort to fight it… he's falling for you harder than I've seen him fall before. And this twisted little waltz you two are doing? It's not going to do anything in the end but hurt you both. I don't take kindly to people hurting the baby, Katniss."

He tried for that same sinister smile as before, but the effect was different, askew. The, malice could not reach his eyes, she realized. What did reach those sky blues locked on her spoke more of plead, of determined purpose… that unequivocal emotion that drove beings to protect something cherished.

She found herself unable to maintain that stare – not with that irritating remorse tightening her chest as it was – and veered her eyes to her soapy hands to reply, quietly, "We… we're not… we're not like that, Rye. We can't be. We're just… we're too different. We'd drive each other nuts. We fight all the time as it is. We're just…" She broke off, furrowing her brows to find the right word.

"Well, figure out exactly what you're supposed to be to each other and let him know, will ya?" he snorted acerbically, slipping off the edge of the SUV and starting to move off in the direction of a congregated group of her teammates. He paused for just a moment to half turn back with a quirked eyebrow, "He deserves that much from you."

She watched his massive back for a second, not really seeing him, as he moved off, then turned back to the food truck. Her mind was light years away when her eyes found the object of her growing frustration- far too preoccupied to give import to the fact those impossibly blue eyes blazed directly on her.

Were her thoughts not a whirlwind of what-ifs and should-it-bes about that boy, she would've realized (would've bothered caring) how his lips spread into a confused, flattered lopsided smirk when her eyes absently combed over of his form. Unabashed, her distracted gaze fell off to trace a languid line from his squared jaw, down his thick neck where the bob of his Adam's apple entranced her a moment as it glided over taught tendons. She then followed the deep valley between the large swells of his pectoral muscles, all the way to where the apron inhibited access before diverting off to trace a large vein in his right shoulder. It sloped beautifully down the undulations of his biceps that she noticed twitch once under her inexplicably brazen scrutiny. Her eyes chased that adventurous vessel all the way down his sculpted forearms, to the center of his large hands, blessed with dexterous-looking, if slightly jittery, fingers.

That anxious shudder of digits ultimately wrenched her from her introspection and, with no small amount of mortification and a scorching flush searing every inch of flesh, her eyes flew up to find his. She couldn't quite identify the feeling that swelled her chest, prohibiting breathing, when in response to the embarrassment she knew clearly decorated her mien, he bestowed the warmest, most serene smile she'd ever seen.

It was unearthly. It froze her to her very core. It was gone a moment later when he turned away to give his attention to the next customer in line.

Not bothering to care that they were drenched in semi-filthy wash water, Katniss brought both hands up to her head, pulling on her roots until it ached.

Peeta Mellark would be the end of her.

* * *

She knew she was staring. But their blatant mutual physical attraction had become so transparent over the last thirteen days of constant training, it was more of a running gag between them at that point. She might as well enjoy the view.

Peeta was not exaggerating about his superlative body control. He'd known some basic rolls from wrestling coming in, the kind kept low to the ground that served well to propel someone off you in a match. But when Thresh and Finn got their hands on him (because none of the girls on the team had the strength to control a hundred sixty-five pound boy through a flip) and started teaching him basic cartwheels and handsprings… he'd learned the mechanics to the maneuvers in a day. Sure, the fluidity of his motions were ungainly, but with each day – as he gained more skill and his muscles attuned to the new strain – he became more and more impressive to watch. He was a magnificent athlete. Nice butt, too.

"Rye thinks we should get together." The randomness and abruptness of the statement reverberating in her basement, previously silent except for the pants and grunts he'd occasionally heave due to an especially difficult exercise, made her cringe. Suddenly, she found the ends of the towel wrapped around her neck far more interesting to look at.

"Rye believes it harmless to inhale gasoline in a poorly ventilated garage when he refills the lawnmower. Actually, he revels in the procedure… think it's why he always volunteers for lawn work. I would take his dating advice with a grain of salt."

A snort escaped her and she looked up from the towel to find him in a nearly perfectly executed handstand, smiling upside down at her. The effect was adorable if weird. She tilted her head at a ninety-degree angle to send a mock chastising glare at him, poorly hiding her amusement.

"He cares about you… a lot."

With a sweeping move she could tell he'd been practicing religiously, Peeta was on his feet, back turned to her. She could hear a creeping edge of hostility to his baritone. "Rye's nosier than a sewing circle, sweetheart." His voice grew quieter, tinged with something she could not name but made her heart clench. "And he's too pigheaded to stop blaming himself for things he couldn't possibly have ever prevented."

He turned to face her, his expression blank and his eyes resolute. "You set the boundaries for us. I'm cool with that. Believe me. I respect that there are bigger things in your life than this, than me. You have to do for your family. I can't imagine anything more noble than that. What kind of prick would I be to get in the way of that? But, Rye…" he let out a breath, running a hand through his sweaty hair, "he's sorta tunnel-visioned. And immature. So, so immature."

He'd made his way to just in front of her as he'd spoken and finished by bringing a hand up to cup her cheek in open affection. He'd taken to doing those kinds of gestures the last couple of days- a flick of her nose, a chaste kiss to her forehead.

She'd taken to allowing him.

They were friends now, weren't they? Allies.

"You need to focus on what's really important to you right now, Katniss. I'm a big boy. I can deal. Don't worry about me, okay?"

She wasn't sure if the motion her head made was a nod or a nervous spasm in response to his touch, his proximity. Either way, he was moving away from her by her next exhale.

"I need to cut out a bit early tonight."

She quirked a curious eyebrow at the odd hoarse timbre his inflection took as he'd spoken. Was he anxious? Peeta Mellark was never anything but self-assured.

"I have a thing tonight," he finished ambiguously, not meeting her gaze as he plucked a towel from his duffle bag in the corner.

Doing the exact opposite the little voice in her head screamed in warning to do, she immediately asked, "What thing?"

"I have a life outside of this, Everdeen," Peeta rounded on her defensively, instantly regretting it when he saw the tiny girl recoil, bringing her arms up over her chest with an affronted scowl. "Look, it's really none of your business what I do outside of this. This is what we are. That was the deal, right? I'll get there at ten tomorrow so we can stretch together- make up for it," he tried in a softer, beseeching tone, an outstretched hand pointed in her direction.

Realization struck that he was asking, pleading for something. For what? Well, it could not possibly matter less. She was far too pissed at him for flying off the handle like a maniac to care.

"Exactly, Mellark. So, go then," she hissed before running up the stairs.

She knew he'd let himself out when she heard her back door slam from the confines of her upstairs shower.

* * *

Katniss's brows pinched in derision, perusing the drug test paperwork in her hands as she walked out the fast food venue. At this rate, by the time she graduated, she'd have to vow to name her firstborn female offspring Margaret or Delaney. The plan had been to hold off coming to check on the waitressing gig the girls had lined up for her until Monday, but, seeing as Peeta'd bailed on her early, she'd figured she'd take care of it that night.

She would've never guessed the Sonic at the strip mall less than three miles from her house – more than acceptable walking distance for someone with no transportation – was co-owned by Madge's father, nor that the man, who had interests in half a dozen other businesses in their town, would have Delly's boyfriend Thomas as junior assistant manager. Apparently, having his location staffed by the local high school's student athletes made for great PR and Mr. Undersee trusted his little girl's judgment implicitly when it came to hiring employees. He'd had a steady stream of students working there since the store opened five years prior. It was also a hub for the younger demographic to loiter- being preeminently located in front of the Muvico.

The interview had been cursory. Thom had promised to schedule her shifts around practices and performances, as he did for all the other part-timers there, and handed her the mandatory drug test stuff. The most exacting question he'd asked her was whether she could skate. She could. This seemed to make him disproportionately relieved. Was that really so rare a skill? You'd think good memory for remembering orders and people skills would rank higher to the kid, but no… just skating. Apparently, anyone with sight could operate the computer to take an order and it was assumed no one would sass the costumers when there were seven people lined up to take your job.

Even so, it grated on Katniss, the lengths Delly and Madge had gone to to help her get the cash she needed for Nationals. It reeked too much of charity and her Pa had raised her better than to accept hand-outs. He'd taught her to earn her keep. Then again, she had to reason, it wasn't charity if she worked her butt off to show she was worthy of the opportunity- if she didn't squander it. And lord knew, any bit of extra income helped right now. Maybe, she could even save some up for college. She'd yet to hear back on the dozen scholarship applications she'd filed… or on what school would actually take her, for that matter. Realistically, she needed a Plan B.

She was leaning against the post at the intersection, waiting for the light to change for her to cross, lost somewhere in the depths of her own inner conference, when she heard it. No other engine rumbled quite like the revamped archaic thing housed within the oxidized metal shell that was Rye Mellark's eighty-five Bronco. Her eyes flicked up in time to see the blur of rust, white and red run the already steady red into the shop's lot at a speed that could only be described as reckless.

This is why his father never gave him the truck, she mused caustically.

A slave to morbid curiosity, and figuring she may as well say hello as long as was there, she shoved away from the post making her way toward the movie theater where the Ford SUV had parked.

Her plans took a decisive three-sixty once the doors flew open.

Out of the passenger side jumped Peeta, immediately turning and outstretching a hand to aid a girl, a very pretty girl, down from the overly raised vehicle. Her mind taking far too long to process what her visual acuity was reporting, Katniss frowned when a second later what appeared to be the exact same girl reached out an identical arm to brace around her cheerleading partner's neck to exit the car with a giggle.

The Leegs. Identical twins. Her teammates on the squad.

She'd had little interaction with them. They were seniors and too tall to be tossed, so they kept to the mini-clique of tumblers within the squad. They weren't particularly hostile to her, just indifferent. They were a novelty on the team- every teenage boy's dream. Breath-taking identical cheerleaders. They were middle-eastern descended, with skin the color of rich honey and eyes to match. Their hair was a sun kissed auburn. They essentially appeared gold-plated. Beautiful.

The blood pulsed violently through her veins, the sound of it paining her ears with every racing heartbeat. Why was she breathing so fast? It didn't matter what he did, who he did it with. He was no one- just a pawn required to reach her ultimate goal. And he didn't even look all that particularly thrilled to be there, if the way he pocketed both hands when Rye came around to crush the sisters to him as he led them toward the building was any indication.

Yes. His brother had talked him into this. It was so obvious. He couldn't possib-

All cogent thoughts stopped, as well as her exhale, when one of the twins wrenched away from Rye, strutted back to the soberly following blonde and, without hesitation, threw her arms around him, joining their mouths soundly. What was left of her insides shriveled when, after a split second, she saw Peeta's hands come up to the girl's waist.

She had no idea what happened after, too occupied with pumping her legs furiously across that intersection, dodging the cars that blazed their horns in protest.

And, no, those _were not_ tears in her eyes. She refused to concede them permission to be so.

* * *

She'd done an admirable job at evading him all morning. In all seriousness, she was acting like an infant. Every time he'd ask a question, it'd be met with a shrug or some aloof monosyllabic mumble.

It wouldn't be so grating if he weren't presently all but lying atop her, forcing her distended leg as far across her body as it could go to stretch her hamstrings. The silence in this intimate position was so indescribably awkward. He thought they'd established a civility just so they wouldn't have to suffer through this crap.

Obviously, he'd been wrong.

"So, the Leegs. How long has that been going on?"

He was so surprised at the abruptness and spite of her voice, he sprung away from her, sitting back on his haunches to narrow his eyes on her as her leg shot down like a spring and she braced herself up on her elbows to frown defiantly at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes, turning her back on him to shift into a different leg stretch, one not necessitating his assistance. "Really? You looked like you knew plenty about it at last night's _thing_."

Before the breath to the last word was completely out, she'd found herself on her back again (she'd figure out those insane wrestling moves he pulled, eventually), Peeta's face hovering inches over hers and both wrists pinned above her head. Any one of their many surrounding squad mates on the field could misconstrue this little scene as something intimate, but the likes had become so commonplace between them, all of them seemed to ignore their little tiffs.

"No, Everdeen. You don't get to do this. You don't get to dictate anything in my life outside of this. _You_ established the limits of what we are to each other. _You_ chose this for us and I'm abiding by _your_ rules. Stop it."

She fought the instinct to recoil at the intensity of his sneer, the scorch of his touch, the command in his rough tenor. She refused to back down. "Fine. Maybe I'm not in a place where anything beyond a partnership would work. I don't have it to give. But Rye actually had me half convinced you care about me. Is that bull? Does my inaccessibility somehow void your emotions so completely anything in a skirt with a heartbeat is just as appealing?"

An gleam of hurt flashed through the azure in his eyes before he steeled it away, countering harshly, "How full of yourself can you get? I'm supposed to pine for you? What does it matter how I feel about you? You made a choice, a choice I honestly understand and am testing the boundaries of my control to support. But, I'm a normal sixteen-year-old, Katniss. I dig girls. Rye wanted me to take a break from you, try something to get you out of my head. He thought last night would help. Believe me, I wish it had. It'd make my life so much easier if any other girl could make me feel a fraction what I feel for you. You're exhausting- so much freaking work." He released her wrists to run a hand through his hair gruffly, huffing out, "What were you doing, anyway? Stalking me?"

With the use of her arms now restored, she rammed both palms into his chest roughly, sitting up and shuffling backwards. "Get over yourself. I was applying for a job with Thom, ass."

Neither spoke for a moment, her picking at the new blades of grass at her sides, avoiding his gaze with a scowl- him still on his haunches, hovering over her knees, analyzing her somewhat morosely. Eventually, the pregnant silence became too much.

"Well… Did you get it?"

He'd managed to inject that infectious mirthful inflection to his baritone that had her fighting the edge of her mouth from creeping upward. She wanted to stay mad at him, damn it. "Of course, I got it. It's Thom. Dell and Madge arranged it. Unless I'm a heroin addict or mentally deficient, there was no way I wasn't going to land that thing."

She could feel when that single too-blonde eyebrow crept high on his forehead long before it registered in her periphery and the battle against that stupid threatening smirk was lost. "Don't look at me that way, Mellark. I kicked that junk years ago."

"I was thinking more along the lines of that whole mental deficiency thing…"

The punch to the large bicep the pretty much skintight plum and white cheerleading top did nothing but showcase made a satisfying 'thwack' sound, even if Katniss had to wring her hand immediately after to alleviate the sting.

"You are a prick."

Peeta was smiling full on now, if tentatively. He leaned closer to her. "Yeah, well… Are we okay- you and I?"

Katniss shrugged, allowing her eyes to fall to the grass again. She heaved out quietly, her voice lazed with abject resignation, "No. But we are what we are, right?"

She found her eyes closing, relishing the electricity of his large hand caressing her cheek to move a wayward strand of the intricate braid she'd tied back with a ridiculous glittery purple bow behind her ear. He spoke his response so quietly; she could have sworn she'd imagined it.

"Right."

* * *

Was it possible to strip a pompom bald? Because if such a thing was plausible, Katniss was certain she'd achieve it before the end of that night.

Why was she nervous? She'd been competing in tournaments since she was five.

Then again, tournaments did not involve another person who she'd have to rely on to keep her from spending the rest of her life a paraplegic…

"Well, don't you look cute."

At the tug on her bow and the familiar, mocking singsong voice, she turned chilled mercury on the blonde coming off the field for halftime. She backhanded his intrusive appendage from her hair and his devious smirk only amplified.

"I thought you were a wrestler, Rye. Are these the lengths you'll go to just to haunt me?"

With a flippant shrug, the Mellark middle child replied, "Wow, does someone seriously think herself so much the sun that all us lowly planets _must_ orbit humbly around her? Humble much, Everdeen? Hitting's hitting, lady. Still a good outlet for the repressed aggression I harbor due to my…" he did that neck-cracking thing that made the hairs on her arms stand on end, "you know… issues. Baby brother should be backing me up at running back this year, by the way. But, no. You greedy bastards had to monopolize his time. You're all evil."

"Cry me a bloody river," she scoffed dramatically before narrowing her eyes into a sneer. "Oh, and thanks for trying to hook Peeta up with perfection times two, traitor. What's up with that?"

His smile grew lopsided, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I thought you didn't care. You're just… what did you call him? Oh, that's right. You're still figuring that out, aren't you? And, for your information, I'm merely a shepherd, pretty lady. I guide wayward sheep to the right path. By any means necessary," he snorted arrogantly, elusively, winking at her as he moved off – for some reason Katniss did not want to chance a hemorrhage trying to decipher – in the direction of the DJ booth instead of joining the rest of his team in the locker room.

She didn't have long to ponder the teenager's bizarre behavior. The squad was already taking the field and she soon found herself traipsing along to take her place in the starting formation near the back. This would not be the entire qualifiers piece. It was really just a snippet, a run-through to get everyone acquainted with the choreography and acclimated to performing before an audience.

The entire set was less than four minutes long, but the way her stomach was churning told Katniss it'd feel like an eternity… longer, if anything went wrong. And there was any number of things that could go wrong.

She let out a slow breath, lowering her head and distending her pompomed arms before her, setting her opening stance as she waited for the opening riff to Flo-Rida's Good Feeling. She calmed once the music began and she heard Madge begin her countdown. Then, abruptly, before the lyrics prompting their starting motions could begin, the disc screeched to a halt, causing Katniss's confused eyes to fly up to the speakers above the crowd. The audience appeared as upset by the confusion, if their groans and murmurs of protest were telling.

Almost immediately, however, another song – a different song – boomed from the speakers and the ambience of the auditorium exploded in excitement.

Counting down? No. Wait. No. This wasn't their song. Stop.

Her reeling mind finally ascertaining the situation, steel eyes darted to the front of the formation to seek out those wayward golden curls. The few seconds of introspection she had to spare as the opening score wound down spent on him. This song was a quarter beat faster than the one they'd practiced with from the start. Could he adapt to this subtle nuance so abruptly? She'd been doing this her whole life. He'd been at it all of two bloody weeks! How could they do this to them?

She tried to slow her spiraling heartbeat (not an easy feat with the pulsing rhythm consuming her) in order to center her thoughts logically. She'd seen Peeta learn the dance choreography for the Nationals piece. He could keep count. He had rhythm. He could dance. It was not impossible the he'd be able to discern the change in pacing here. Plus, Finnick was in charge of the count for the boys up there. He'd help. He'd have to…

Time was up. The lyrics had begun. She had to move. No more thinking.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming 'round. _

She had to lock that frame. Head down, feet up and over, touch down with her hands. Push off.

Don't lose those stupid pompoms.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listenin' to the sound of my tears._

Head down, feet up and over, touch down with her hands. Push off. Jesus, was her pulse synchronizing with the pulsating music? It felt like her heart would burst out her chest like that little crap in Aliens any second.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that the best of all my years have gone by. Turn around. Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes._

She'd over extended the right leg on the step out of the last handspring. Sloppy. But she couldn't afford to waste time on analyzing that now. Her blood boiled. A quick bounce propelled her over the kneeling Leeg. Had her left foot 'accidentally' brushed the girl's temple? Whoops. Peeta was there when she landed the ensuing cartwheel.

He was there. _He was there_. Dear lord in heaven, he'd made it there.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_And I need you now, tonight. And I need you more than ever. And if you'll only hold me tight, you'll be holding on forever. And we'll only be making it right, 'cause we'll never be wrong._

It was so ridiculous, the comfort, the stability she found the moment she flipped into that boy's sweat slicked muscled arms. She would've laughed if her nervous system weren't a train wreck. With a steadiness she'd only ever known since that first day he'd held her at the lake house, his arms came firmly to her waist and she was flying into the air, locking her framing ramrod, arms overhead shaking her pompoms as Peeta easily caught her feet. He was marvelous.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_Turn around. Every now and then I know you'll never be the boy you always wanted to be. Turn around. Every now and then I know you'll always be the only boy who wanted me the way that I am. Turn around. Every now and then I know there's no one in the universe as magical or wondrous as you. Turn around. Every now and then I know there's nothing any better, there's nothing that I just wouldn't do._

After the first eight counts and becoming inebriated with the delirious cheers of the crowd, Peeta eased her down so she could take her steps forward to flip back into his awaiting arms. She lost herself in the warmth; the exhilaration of flight as she lifted her leg in the air, carefree in her knowledge the boy beneath her would secure her ankle in those impossibly sturdy hands. And he did not disappoint. The audience's response was almost as deafening as the pulsing music. She closed her eyes and lived in it, allowed the strumming beat – the sensory overload – to saturate every inch of her being. Yes.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_Together we can take it to the end of the line. Our love is like a shadow only all of the time… I really need you tonight… Forever's gonna start tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight._

It was foolhardy, she knew, to relish so that fleeting moment when Peeta lowered her, that nth of a second his arms cradled her to his chiseled chest and he grinned a secret 'hello', before swinging her upward once more with uncanny ease. '_Don't let go_,' her oh-so treacherous psyche echoed in response… '_Please never let go._'

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_I don't know what to do. I'm always in the dark. We're living in a powder keg that's giving off sparks…_

When she shook her pompoms and smiled exuberantly for the extended count, it didn't feel forced at all. She relished the waves of music swirling around her – through her – the crowd's frenzied adulation. Up there, secure in _her_ boy's indelibly solid arms- she was not pretty. She was not beautiful. She was radiant as the sun.

All the planets rotated around her.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_I really need you tonight. Forever's gonna start tonight… forever's gonna start tonight._

What she found swimming in Peeta's eyes when he lowered her and she secured her legs on either side of his waist as he supported her with a hand to the small of her back and rear respectively- would have stolen her breath had any been spared in her lungs after her exertions. The cerulean beamed with that same exhilaration and something else, something intangible she was certain her own eyes mirrored. It made her wish she didn't have to shove against his chest softly, reaching backwards as he gave her rump a little boost to help her momentum into the flip. Once she stepped out of the last back handspring, using the landing bounce to propel her body backward into the first of two back tucks, she saw Peeta completing the first of his own two flips, albeit from a very skewed angle.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8… 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…

_Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart. Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart. Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart. Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart._

She reached him a half count early, but she was too twerked on adrenaline to care and just released an exited squeal when his hands once more found her waist. In a blink of an eye, she was astride his massive shoulders, arms flailing in the air madly- imbibing on the uproarious mood.

The cacophony of sound as the tune ended was so stark, Katniss was not sure who was louder: the quickly amassing squad or the people on their feet on the stands. Everyone was hugging and cheering and groping. The moment her feet hit the ground from off Peeta's shoulders, Rue all but pounced on her. Annie smothered her. Somehow, she wound up motorboating Delly when she found herself sandwiched between her and Madge. It was all sound, exhilaration, kisses, congratulations, hugs – yes, she was allowing for hugs, this – apparently – was some unbeknownst side effect of delirium.

That'd probably be tangible enough excuse for finding herself wrapped in Peeta's arms, him smiling maniacally, heaving breaths against her own idiotic grin. Why they'd simultaneous choose to shorten the distance between those smiles to nothing, however, would become anyone's guess.

"Christ, Katniss, I'm sorry that was…" Peeta gasped, his mouth breaking contact with hers abruptly when the reality of what he'd just done (albeit, what he'd wanted to do from the moment he'd laid eyes on her) registered. He tried to pull away, but found the act stifled by the way she suddenly pulled the skin of her bottom lip between her teeth. Even thought became laborious once his eyes fixated on that. "Um… yeah… sorry… heat of the moment… not… um."

"Shut up, Peeta," she hissed, burying both hands in his sweaty curls to force his mouth back down to hers. Now that it wasn't completely haphazard, she took her time to savor the kiss, nipping lightly at his lower lip. He tasted of new perspiration, whatever it was he used to shave (perfume-y) and something sweet she could not decipher. Delicious.

Peeta, for his part, slumped his shoulders, melting into her. Taking advantage of her obviously diverted thoughts, he bent slightly, braced both hands under her upper thighs and lifted her flush to him in a straddle, making her squeal in surprise against their joined mouths.

"This is such a bad idea," he grazed his teeth against her upper lip.

"Oh, the absolute worst," she concurred, roaming the tip of her tongue over the seam of his mouth to gain access, which, of course he supplied with fervor. The oral exploration continued, as they remained oblivious to the whoops and catcalls from their squad and football team reemerging on the field (and likely most of the people in the stands). Only when the need for non-reheated oxygen became too great, did their lips part, their foreheads remaining in contact.

"I thought you had other priorities, Everdeen."

She gave a one-sided shrug. "You wanna try to convince me you're worth the extra maintenance?"

"What? Haven't I proven enough? Do I have to lose a limb or something?"

"You'd make a very cute amputee."

"You're really something, sweetheart."

"Yeah, well. You may be stuck with me for a while…" Her smile suddenly grew anxious, her eyes distant. "Can you handle that, Peeta? All that's wrong with me? When I'm impossible, when things get hard, because I can promise they won't be easy with me. I have a lot to get done, Peeta. I've had people leave before- people I allowed myself to need. I have to know that if I let myself need you…" she let out a shuddering breath. "Will you stay?"

The response was an emotion suppressed so long - too long – that when it left him, it was a steadfast hiss against her parted lips.

"Always."

* * *

**A/N: My most heartfelt gratitude goes out to Everlark_Pearl(mellarksloaves), who is the only real gymnast I know and also happens to be a gifted writer. She did me the very great kindness of revising the technical stuff in the first scene of this and betaing the entire final scene routine so that it made sense. Thank you for your kindness and for your willingness to teach.**

**For Anyone who enjoyed this...**

**Please Review!**


End file.
